Farewell Compliment
by iridescent eyes
Summary: title is temporary. While on the run with Michael, Selene faces the guilt of the muders she committed in the name of misplaced revenge. Erika is left to uncover the Coven's secrets from the clues that Selene left behind.


Hello, hello.

I'm back! The writer who brought you _Heart Veneer_ and _More than Meets the Eye_ brings now to you this new, currently untitled story.

I have big plans for this one. I have spent a great deal of time outlining chapters so that it flows and makes sense. I started writing this chapter a while ago, but I wanted to get it posted before I go to camp this summer, which will be in a week and a half.

I cannot make promises as to how often this will be updated. I will try, though.

I really, really, REALLY want feedback on this. Suggestions and constructive criticism is more than welcome. Please, please, please, if you take the time to read this, then take the time to 'drop a line' or whatever.

This story is set several hours after the movie, and it meant as a sequel which will tie up loose ends and resolve conflicts. Keep your eyes out for characters such as Erika, Kahn and Kraven, as you will be seeing them soon.

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And now for the disclaimer: I do not own _Underworld_ or any of its characters or concepts. I do, however own any characters which may appear in future chapters and my own original ideas.

I hope you enjoy!

iridescent eyes

**S**he woke with a start, hands by her sides involuntarily gripping the comforter on top of which she laid. For a moment, one horrifying moment, there was nothing but the stunning shock of waking up from such a dream. Her breathing was too loud, her eyes too wide.

But after a moment her surroundings came back to her. A hotel room. The sound of the shower running. Michael was taking a shower. She couldn't have been asleep for very long, she reasoned. But it had seemed like _ages_. No, it had seemed timeless. It was not a part of time; it was not contained in the boundaries of seconds or minutes.

She tried not to think about what she had been dreaming, but the struggle was in vain. The images crept in, only half as vivid as that had been in her sleep, yet terrifying nonetheless.

Selene would never admit that the dream bothered her. It didn't, she couldn't let it. If she let it then she would collapse. She would never admit to that either. No, she was strong. She had to be. Either you were strong or you died. You had to keep up, especially in times like these.

Dead.

Viktor was dead. She had killed him. He was dead and would never come back. Selene wished he could. Not so that she could speak with him or run into his arms, but so she could kill him once again, more slowly. She wanted to make him suffer how he had made her suffer, make him be terrified the way her nieces had been had been terrified, make him scream the way her sister and mother had screamed.

_No, don't think of that!_ She clasped her hands over her ears as if to block out her own thoughts.

Hopeless.

It was hopeless.

Everything Selene had ever known and believed was a lie. A lie which she readily accepted without question. A lie which she had lived by for centuries, making it her sick obsession. She had lived for vengeance. She had killed thousands for it. And it was a lie, rendering her hopeless. The bleak world before her seemed a void. A chasm which she could fall through and drown in, suffocating on regret.

Walking down the rainy street with Michael after that terrible battle, Selene had pondered all this. Why not just put the gun to her head right then? It would be so easy to pull the trigger and suffocate no more.

But Selene had been sure she would be going straight to hell. Dante had several circles reserved for her, each more terrifying than the next. She wasn't sure she believed in hell, or much of anything the Church had taught her as a child, but she remembered the fear of the devil the priests had instilled in her. Some said that hell was really the absence of God. The priests had said that hell was a place where sinners went for eternity to suffer for what they had done. They had also said that suicide was a mortal sin.

Viktor would have loved for her to do it. He had been about to kill her anyway. She would only be carrying out his will by taking her own life, just as she had carried out his will by killing lycans. Selene loathed the thought of doing anything for him ever again.

She had thought being a warrior was for herself, that if she killed the ones who murdered her family she would have closure and she could be at peace. But now that the true perpetrator was dead she did not feel any closure at all. In fact, what was supposed to have been closed was now a gaping wound. Selene felt more vulnerable than ever.

But she had put that all aside by now. She had to. She had to be strong now more than ever. It didn't matter how she felt, what mattered was surviving, making it out alive.

And making sure that Michael made it out alive with her.

She didn't know if she felt anything for the hybrid. _But what is feeling really? Honestly, would I even know a warm feeling if it shot me in the face? Who knows? Who cares right now? _She didn't have to be emotionally attached to help him out of this. No, it wasn't love she felt. It was responsibility. It was partially her fault that he was involved, and he didn't know how to cope. He had no chance alone. Not only that, but he was a hybrid, the only hybrid. If he didn't survive than Lucian's work would be for nothing. No, if there was any hope in ending the war, it had to be in Michael. It wasn't the power he now had, it was simply what he was, what he represented.

**T**he scalding water made a downpour in the small cubicle that was the shower. He stood there with his head bowed and let the pressure and the heat of the water wash away the blood and grime from the previous night.

The noises poured in, and oh, how they poured. The little noises--neighbours talking, hotel guests snoring, cars passing by, even a junkie's chattering teeth as he stalked the street in search of a fix.

_Stop,_ he willed the sounds, but to no avail. Selene had told him that he would soon be able to effortlessly block out all the tiny noises. Michael really hoped so; he would soon go insane if this did not cease.

And then there was Selene. No doubt that Michael was attracted to the ivory-skinned goddess who was slumbering in the adjoining room. Realistically, Michael knew that he was dreaming, fooling himself. He had known her for barely three days, and their relationship was less than friendly, consisting of him taking orders from her, following her around, just hoping they both lived to the next night.

Michael was sure that if he died, Selene would carry on effortlessly. Whether she would feel any grief, he did not know, but survival was something she could certainly do without him. But if he lost Selene he was as good as dead. He did not even know where to begin when it came to survival in the Underworld, with the combined wrath of the Vampire Coven and the Lycan Clan upon him.

But earlier that night after leaving the sewers, when Michael was more confused and devastated than he had ever thought possible, Selene seemed to be clear-headed. They went to an ATM in a seedy part of town and withdrew astounding amounts of cash. When Michael questioned her about the conspicuousness of this, she stated that it didn't matter; their trail would end there--cash would ensure that they could be chased through a bank account.

Turning off the water, Michael stepped out of the shower and dried himself. He slipped into loose-fitting grey cotton sweat pants, which had been purchased in a nearby shop on the way to the hotel, and opened the door between the bathroom and the room proper.

She was not in the bed, though the covers were disheveled as though she had at least tried to sleep. He found her standing at the desk which faced the window, her back toward him, cleaning and checking her weapons. He wondered how many times she had gone through this ritual and if it were really necessary, but realised that it was probably more of a compulsive habit than a crucial task. Did this restlessness mean she was upset? Well, of course she would be upset, Michael chided himself, look at all she's been through tonight.

Michael wondered just why Selene had sacrificed her place in the Coven and killed Viktor. From the way she had talked about him, Michael was under the impression that Selene had very high regards for Viktor. Did she kill him just to protect Michael? No, it had to be more than that. Though he wanted desperately to know her reasons and motivations for this high betrayal of her kind, Michael resolved not to ask Selene, for she probably would not answer anyway, and if she wished to talk about it then she would bring it up herself, not that that was very likely.

Her back was straight with the posture of a dignified warrior, but even warriors should rest, sometimes, at least. Did she ever allow herself a moment's rest? She seemed all too tense, always with thick, thick walls built around her, her form so rigid with the weight of a great dam holding a flood of something back. Why did she do this to herself? Was it sorrow or guilt? _Was it fear?_ Michael reminded himself that he probably would not understand even if he knew. Two hundred years was a long time for one to be alive, a long time to be tired and weary from the world, a long time to harbor feelings and emotions and terrifying memories.

Michael shifted his weight uncomfortably and exhaled. She turned and glanced at him as he stood in the doorway, her eyes quickly glancing down his shirtless form, but giving away not a clue as to what she was thinking or feeling. She turned back to her guns and continued checking and cleaning each one as though he were not there.

"What are you doing?" Michael spoke up, quietly, in a vain attempt to get her to say _something_.

"Once the sun sets we must leave here. We must try to make it across the border." She said this with her back still turned from him, never stopping her work.

"Selene," he breathed, "look at me." It was gentle pleading. Michael had done so without even thinking about it.

She put down the gun but still did not turn. She was taking calming breaths as though she needed to get her bearings. Slowly, she turned, but stopped before she was facing him. "We can't stay here. They will find us. Don't ever doubt that. They will hunt us down until they do, and once they catch us, we will wish that they had the mercy to kill us. But they don't. I know what they do to traitors. I've seen it. I've been on the other end of it, torturing," she got quieter then, "not heeding their cries and pleas for mercy, only feeling the absolute conviction that I was carrying out the pain that they deserved, that they had brought upon themselves." Her eyes seemed to get darker then. "They committed crimes of minor treason. No one has ever killed an elder before. Our punishment will be much worse."


End file.
